Truth or Dare (16 page)

“You girls couldn't possibly be horrible,” Val argued.

Was she serious? I almost laughed. “Oh, we could, believe me.”

“But what caused it? Did something happen?”

“Nothing specific. Sometimes people bully for no reason.”

I knew I should've just stopped right there—but it was like I was a toddler in a stroller and Mom—or was it Aunt Shelby?—was pushing me from behind. I had no control; I couldn't steer. I was just going forward.

“Like when you bullied my aunt,” I said. “I mean, was that really for a reason?”

Val's eyes widened in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Aunt Shelby said you bullied her in middle school.”

Val's face had turned white. “Shelby said that?”

“Yes. She said you put stuff in her gym locker.”

“Stuff?”

“Baby stuff, like undershirts. Because she was flat. And you called her names.”

Val shook her mom-ponytail. Her mouth was tight. “Well, I'm sorry she remembers it that way. If it happened, and I'm not saying it did, I honestly have no memory of it. It was a very long time ago, Lia.”

She stood up to leave.

“Thanks for the food,” I said quickly. “And for everything. Maybe you should keep some pads for Abi?”

“Abi doesn't need any yet. Have a good night, Lia.” She turned and let herself out.

Whoa. So I
was
right about Abi, after all. Half of me wanted to do a victory dance or something, because I'd figured out Abi's secret on my own.

But the other half of me—the other two-thirds, really—just felt quaky about what I'd said to Val.

What was wrong with me? What had I just done?

ABI WAS WAITING FOR ME outside homeroom the next morning. The fact that she was on her own, not with Jules and Mak for once, made my heart thud.

“Lia, we need to talk,” she said quietly. “Did you say anything to my mom yesterday?”

“About what?”

“About
anything
. Take a guess.”

“You mean about being mean to Marley? I told her it was
all
of us.”

“Yeah? Then why did she blame
me
?”

“I don't know, Abi. I swear.”

“You're such a liar, aren't you? Lia the Liar.” She narrowed her eyes. “Mom
also
said you were rude to her.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be.” I could tell how lame that sounded, so I added, “It was just something to do with my aunt.”

“What I don't understand,” Abi said, her voice getting dangerously loud, “is how you could treat my mom
rudely
when she cooked for your family
every week for the past two years
. There were times I was even a bit jealous about it, to be honest, because she was so busy shopping and cooking for
you,
she couldn't do things with
me
.”

“I'm sorry, Abi. We're all so grateful. We kept telling her she didn't need to, but she—”

“She felt
bad
for you, Lia!” Abi's mouth hung open. “Everybody did. Can't you understand that?”

My throat burned. “I really don't want you guys feeling bad for me.”

“Well, too bad, because everybody does! But that doesn't give you the right to go around stealing other people's moms. And then being
rude
about it.”

Now my eyes were stinging. “Abi, I'd never steal your mom from you; that's impossible. I'm really, really sorry if you feel—”

“And saying Mom should take care of Ruby too, like
she has nothing else to do! You know what? I don't know what else to say to you, Lia. I'm sick of listening to all your lies. Don't bother sitting with us at lunch, all right?”

♥  ♥  ♥

Somehow I made it to the nurse's office. As soon as I walked in the door, Mrs. Garcia got off her phone. “You okay, Lia?”

I shook my head. I couldn't talk without crying.

She led me to a cot behind a blue curtain. At the beginning of fifth grade, which was just a few months after the Accident, Mrs. Garcia told me I could come there whenever I wanted. She said I didn't need to feel sick; sometimes kids who'd “been through something” needed a quiet place during the day, she told me. If I wanted to talk to her, or to the school psychologist, I could; but if I just wanted to hang out with her for a bit, that was okay too.

So I came there a lot in fifth grade. By sixth grade, I came maybe three or four times the entire year.

This was the first time I'd come in seventh grade. Nothing had changed. The same posters on the walls
(EAT A RAINBOW OF FOODS; HANDWASHING IS THE BEST DEFENSE)
, the same antiseptic-spray smell, the same thin mattresses on the metal cots.

“Would you like an extra pillow?” Mrs. Garcia asked.
She remembered I'd always asked for one; for a second she reminded me of Maggie at the diner (“The usual?”). I nodded. Mrs. Garcia brought me the pillow. Then she pulled up a chair to the cot.

“What is it, dear? You look pale. Anything hurt?”

I put my hand on my stomach.

“Okay. Mind if I take your temp?” She didn't wait for my answer. “Ninety-eight point eight. Can you tell me what the pain feels like?”

“Cramps.” It seemed like the safest choice.

She nodded understandingly. “Ah. Have you started menstruating yet?”

I shook my head.

“Your body may be getting ready, then. Would you like a Tylenol?”

“No thanks. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why does it have to hurt?”

Mrs. Garcia smiled kindly. “Well, you remember from health class, Lia: a girl gets her period when her ovaries—”

“That's not really what I meant,” I interrupted.

“Ah.” She thought a minute. “I guess it has to hurt so you pay attention. If it didn't hurt, you might not notice when things were happening.”

“What's so great about noticing? I think I'd rather
not
notice. Maybe I could just hibernate or something.”

She smiled. “Oh, I doubt that. You don't want to sleep through your life, do you?”

“No,” I admitted. “I guess not.” The bell rang for first period. I could hear doors opening, kids spilling into the halls, calling to one another, laughing. “Mrs. Garcia?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Can I please just stay here a little while? For my cramps.”

“Of course. As long as you need.”

“Thank you.” Suddenly something occurred to me. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Always, Lia.”

“Would you please talk to Ruby Lewis? She needs to wear a bra, or people will keep making fun of her.”

Mrs. Garcia tried to be cool about it, but I could tell her ears were perking up. “Oh, really? Anyone in particular?”

“No! Just basically everyone.”

“All right, will do.”

“Thanks. And please don't tell her I told you. It'll just embarrass her.”

“Not how I roll,” she said, winking.

THAT EVENING DINNER WAS
LEFTOVERS: the Return of Val's Chicken Stew.
But I was sure it was actually
Food From Val: The Final Installment
. Because after the way I'd accused Val yesterday and the way Abi reacted at school today, I was positive we wouldn't be getting any more meal deliveries on Tuesdays.

So I felt guilty. Dad and Nate were obviously enjoying every bite, and because I'd opened my big mouth, I'd be depriving them of the highlight of the food week.

“You okay, Lee-lee?” Dad asked as he mopped up some chicken stew gravy with a roll.

“Why are you asking?” I said.

“Because you've barely touched your food. And you didn't eat last night, either.”

Nate looked up. “You'd better not be dieting, Fungus Face.”

“I told you I wasn't, Fungus Breath!” I snapped.

“
Okay
,” Dad said. “So what's up? I had a call from Mrs. Garcia. She said you weren't feeling well at school.”

“I'd rather not talk about it.”

“All right.”

Dad kept eating. Was that it, then?
I'd rather not talk about it. All right.
That's all it took? With Mom I'd never get off as easily, that was for sure.

But it didn't work with Dad, either. He just waited for Nate to finish eating and excuse himself to do homework.

Then he said, “Oh, by the way, Lia. Something came for you in today's mail.” Dad handed me a small box addressed to
AMALIA JESSICA ROLLINS
. It had a return address of
SHELBY HEYWOOD, BENCHLEY, MAINE
. Not even a street.

“I'll open it later,” I muttered. Knowing my aunt, it was probably some humiliating undergarment.

Dad pushed away his plate. “So I've been thinking,
Lee-lee. You're at an age when it's really hard not to have your mom around. You probably have lots of stuff going on that you feel you can't share with me.”

Uh-oh. We were going to talk about
those
things.

“Is that right?” he asked gently.

“Maybe. Yeah.” I bit my pointer nail.

“I want you to know that I'm always here for you. But in case you'd rather talk to a female adult—”

Blerg. “Female adult.” As opposed to “woman.”

“—I hope you'll talk to that nice nurse at school. Or to Val. Or your aunt.”

Aunt Shelby only won the bronze, I noticed. “Not Val, okay?”

“No? How come?”

“Because Abi hates me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she thinks I'm ungrateful. Also a liar.”

“You?”

“Yeah. Because I am.”

“Lia.” Dad reached across the table to squeeze my arm. “I don't know what this is about, but whatever happened between you girls, you're not a liar. You're the most honest person I know. And your aunt agrees.”

“Aunt Shelby?”

He nodded. “She didn't go into details about this summer,
but she did mention that you have a highly developed set of ethics.”

Blerg. “Developed.”

And I couldn't imagine my aunt using the expression “set of ethics.” Probably she was referring to my horror at her fake unicorn root. Or about being spied on by Agent Yazmin. Or about the padding, which was now pretending to be my chest.

Dad was searching my face. “So if it's something you ever want to talk to me about, I'd love to listen. Even if it's a woman thing or a body thing—”

I kissed his cheek before he could finish. “Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I love you.”

His face relaxed. “Love you too, Lee-lee.”

♥  ♥  ♥

Upstairs in my bedroom, with my door closed, I opened the package from Aunt Shelby. Inside was a plastic bag containing three purple crystals and a typed note on a strip of paper:
Amethysts are master healing crystals that provide protection during periods of transition. They support those who may be experiencing loss. They boost production of hormones and relieve stress. They can stimulate insight and help with decision-making and motivation.

Also there was a note from Aunt Shelby:

Dear Lia,

I hope you like these amethysts—I picked them out with YOU in mind. They're most powerful if you keep them next to your heart. (Do you have a locket? Or maybe a shirt with a chest pocket?) If you have trouble sleeping, put them under your pillow.

Hope to see you again very soon!

Love,

Aunt S

PS. All cats say: HELLO, but a special MEOW from Escobar and Doomhammer. And a purr from Stinkbug, who is sitting on my head.

I reread the note about amethysts, wondering if my aunt actually believed in all that magic crystal stuff. Maybe she thought if I slipped one of these purple crystals into the padding of my bra, or turned it into a decoration
between the cups, like the rhinestone, I'd feel better about losing Mom, not to mention all my friends. And maybe she thought my hormones would be motivated to start women-struating. Or something.